


Confession

by battle_cat



Series: Fury Road Ficlets [10]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Developing Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-08-31 01:32:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8558020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battle_cat/pseuds/battle_cat
Summary: For the prompt "Tell me": one character confessing something to another.





	1. Chapter 1

The Interceptor comes screaming toward the Citadel late one afternoon, eating up sand so fast the sentries look for a pursuit vehicle. But the desert is empty behind the car as far as anyone can see.

Max steps out of the car twitchy and tense, knuckles white on the stock of his shotgun, his eyes darting around the garage. She has to say his name twice before his gaze latches on to her. When she steps close, forehead against his, she can feel how hard he’s shaking.

“Max,” she says again, oblivious to everything else in the garage. “What’s wrong?”

“‘S…” He swallows. “‘S real, right?”

“Yes.” She grips a handful of his hair tightly, feels a great shudder run out of him. “This is real. You’re here. I’m here.”

He takes a long hitching breath and she feels a little of the panicky energy slide out of him.

“Are you okay?”

He nods slowly.

“Did you come to warn us about something?”

He shakes his head no.

“Heard.” He swallows again, and up close she can see how dry his lips are. “A rumor. ‘Bout here. Bad one. Seemed…credible.”

“We’re okay. Everything’s fine.” He nods stiffly. His face is gray with exhaustion. “How long did you drive?”

He makes a twitchy motion that might be a shrug.

“You’re going to get something to eat, then you’re going to go to my room and sleep. Understand?”

 

He is still asleep in her bed when she finishes her work for the night.

She bolts the door as quietly as she can, but he still jolts awake. “It’s me,” she says softly.

“Hnng?” he mutters, half-lucid.

“Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

She undresses quietly in the shadowy room, puts on her night clothes and slides into bed next to him. She arranges herself the way they tend to fit together, his back to the wall and her back to him, and pulls the blanket up over both of them. He drapes an arm over her torso and nuzzles against her shoulder, the kind of unselfconscious motion he does when he’s mostly asleep.

“Good night, Max.”

“Luffyu,” he mumbles against the back of her neck.

She freezes, eyes wide open in the dark.

Max’s body is relaxed and warm behind her, his breathing easy, his arm a solid weight over her ribcage. Her heart is suddenly pounding.

She opens her mouth three times without anything coming out before she ventures, “Max?”

Nothing but soft, even breathing behind her. He’s fallen asleep.

It takes her a very long time to do the same.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning he is hungry for her and she lets herself fall into it, lets herself grind against him until they’re both sweaty and wanting, lets him get his mouth on her until she arches and moans and then fuck her while she sucks the taste of her own juices out of his mouth.

Neither of them says anything about the words he mumbled last night. 

She watches him wash and dress as if he hadn’t just leapt across an invisible ravine in two sleepy syllables. By the time they’ve finished eating breakfast side by side as if nothing’s changed there’s an undeniable churning in her gut.

For the rest of the day it gnaws at her, every possibility flicking through her head. That he doesn’t remember saying it. That he does remember but regrets it. That he remembers but thinks _she_ doesn’t. That she dreamed it, even though her rational brain knows she was wide awake. She even, with a bitter twist like a knife in the ribs, wonders if in his half-waking state he mistook her for the woman he lost long ago.

Max gets roped into helping the blackthumbs with a malfunctioning windmill and Furiosa has vehicle modifications to make before the next trade run and somehow they manage to go the whole day without seeing each other.

At dinner he has a sly hand on her knee under the table and he smells like sweat and grease and gods dammit, she fucking wants him. They barely get the door to her room bolted before she’s pulling him against her, growling when she feels him already hard through his leathers. There’s a messy stripping off of clothes and then she pushes him down on the bed and climbs on top, takes him inside her and rocks and rocks until they both fall apart.

Afterward they lie on their sides in the dark room, forehead to forehead, catching their breath. One of her legs is hooked around his and his hand is on the back of her head, thumb rubbing idly over the fuzz of her hair.

She should say something. Now would be the moment to say something.

She should say she loves him. Because she does, with a desperate, terrifying intensity. But the wasteland hasn’t been merciful with letting the people she loves stay alive.

The movement of his thumb has stilled, his breath growing deep and even. He’s on the verge of falling asleep, and she suddenly can’t take the thought of another night of uncertainty.

“Max?”

“Mm.”

“Last night. You said…” She draws a shaky breath.

It’s too dark to see his face, but she registers some minuscule change in his body, a tiny flicker of tension. For the space of five breaths he says nothing, and she’s about to think he won’t at all when he licks his lips and mutters, “Meant it.”

She swallows. Her heart is pounding again, and it’s only because it’s dark and she isn’t looking him in the eye that she can whisper, “I love you too.”

She feels more than hears his shuddery exhale of breath across her face. She has a sudden need to touch him and puts her hand on his chest. Underneath her fingers she can feel his pulse thudding just as hard as hers.

“Scared,” she breathes, because she is, and there’s no fighting her way out of this one. “Are you?”

“Constantly.”

“What the hell kind of deal is this?”

He puffs out a short wheezy breath that might be a laugh. “Fucked if I know.”

His hands move, pulling her close against him, her arm curling around his back and her head tucked into the hollow of his shoulder. His lips brush her forehead.

She stays awake for a long time in the dark, and he is right there with her.


End file.
